


shades of red

by killaidanturner



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, fragment writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5943958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killaidanturner/pseuds/killaidanturner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The galaxy is bigger than they both can comprehend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shades of red

i. The galaxy is bigger than they both can comprehend. Even though the both of them have seen most of the Inner and Outer Rim planets. Even though they have both traveled its vast reaches, all the way to the outskirts of Wild Space. They’ve been to these places, seen different colored waters but they’ve never really _looked_. It’s different when you’re sent somewhere for a mission, different when you can’t take the time to run your fingers across a green leaf and let yourself appreciate it. **  
**

* * *

 

 

ii. Sometimes at night Finn thinks of red. Red reminds him of the First Order, it reminds him of the blood on his helmet. How the fingers smeared the blood across the white, a striking contrast. He remembers taking off the helmet and looking at it, how it looked like the number three. He figures this is his unlucky number. He doesn’t say that his hands shake when he thinks of this, that he feels beads of sweat go down his brow, that he wakes up with a pounding heart. He hears the word traitor, over and over and over.

 

* * *

 

 

iii. He has nightmares because he couldn’t save them all.

 

* * *

 

 

iv. Poe tells him about a fruit that he had on Jakku, a Taunulberry and how it stained his fingers blue and gray. When he talks he uses his hands, his fingers create a world of their own with flicks of his wrist. Finn can see it clearly and imagines his fingers dyed as well. He imagines himself sitting close, shoulders touching, knees pulled close to their chest as they sit in one of the small huts. He imagines a time where they found each other sooner, that after the ship had crashed into the sand, grains moving against their skin, that they were both there. That they found Rey together and things were very different for them both. When Poe laughs and asks Finn if he was listening, Finn nods his head eagerly. He was listening too _closely._

 

* * *

 

 

v. Eventually he tells Poe about red. He tells him of how he associates it with control, with malintent. He tells him it reminds him of Kylo’s lightsaber and how nothing good can be associated with the color. He remembers his rage, his rage, his rage. He thinks of fire, he thinks of how those in the Hosnian system saw red as the last color before they were destroyed.

 

Poe smiles, a small genuine thing, he tells Finn about different planets sunsets, how the sun crescents on the horizon basking lands in rays of red and orange. He tells him about how red isn’t always hurtful, it doesn’t always speak of vengeful things.

 

“Our jacket has a patch of red on it, it doesn’t seem to bother you when you wear it?”

 

“I don’t want it to bother me.”

 

Poe doesn’t tell him that he’s seen the way he holds the jacket sometimes, how his fingers caress the fabric of the red patch before he puts it on.

 

Finn holds onto the word _our._

 

* * *

 

 

vi. Finn makes comparisons in his head, builds lists. He compares the organized chaos of the resistance to the militant cleanliness of the First Order.

 

“It’s not that messy.” Poe states as Finn points out empty mugs, helmets strewn about in their small conference room on base.

 

Finn laughs, he doesn’t mind that it’s messy. It feels _comfortable._

 

* * *

 

 

vii. “Do you think Rey likes it, wherever she went to find Luke?”  Finn has his hands behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling, imagining that it is gone and instead he’s looking out at Wild Space, millions of uncharted starts.

 

“Where ever it is, I hope that it is somewhere green.” Poe’s voice is quieter as he makes this confession.

 

“I think that she would like that.” Finn feels that she is braver than them all. He hopes that there is water, that there are waves, that she can see them crash against cliff sides. He hopes that she sees every color the galaxy has to offer.

 

* * *

 

 

vii. Finn wakes up to screams, wakes up to realize that this time they are not his own. BB-8 is at his heels, beeping and urging him along. It takes less than a minute to get to Poe’s room, less than a minute to have his hands on his shoulders as he tries to wake him. BB-8 tells him of his worry, that Poe has had many quiet nightmares since being taken by the First Order. Finn doesn’t understand everything the droid says but when he has Poe in his arms, he suddenly realizes that they are both fighting something bigger than them both. 

 

Poe breathes heavily, his face buried in the crook of Finn’s neck. It’s warm and causes goose-flesh on Finn’s arms. His fingers cling to Finn until his bones ache, until his breathing evens out. Finn runs his hands down Poe’s back, lets them play with the string at the end of Poe’s shirt, the one that is coming unraveled. In the dark he notices that the string is red, the shirt is red. For the first time he doesn’t feel his chest swell in panic of it. For the first time he feels like red can have a new meaning for him. 

 

“It’s going to be ok,” Finn says and they both believe it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can follow me on the tumblr at [killaidanturner](http://killaidanturner.tumblr.com/)


End file.
